


Your Roots Are Showing.

by Shenaniganary



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Gen, I've seen the headcanon they all have naturally pink hair and I declare it canon, Piglin Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Piglin Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Wilbur Soot-centric, Wilbur and Techno are twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28772979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenaniganary/pseuds/Shenaniganary
Summary: The sleepy bois all have naturally pink hair except I write about President Wilbur Soot.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 270





	Your Roots Are Showing.

Wilbur woke up early most days, every morning, unless it's a special occasion (which were very few and far between) he’d get up long before the sun could even begin to rise. As president, he had such a long list of responsibilities and duties to work his way through each day, that he had to give himself as much time to complete them as possible. It's the same reason he works so late into the night, why he never gets any time off, why he’s so tired all the time, why he can’t take care of his son as well as he’d like to… Okay, it’s far too early in the morning to be thinking such depressing thoughts. Come on, out of bed, you’ve got way too many things to do to waste time lying around being lazy.

With that little bit of self-motivation, he was up. 

If there was one thing in the world Wilbur absolutely could not live without, it would be his family, and after that, his guitar, and after that, his beloved beanie. But his morning routine was a close fourth or fifth on that imaginary list. He loved his morning routine, without it he wasn’t sure if he’d ever leave the house at all, never mind actually get anything productive done with his day. Perhaps he would be more efficient if his routine followed a strict schedule, specific times for each action, but Wilbur didn’t think he was up to the task of making something like that. So, he just followed his mental checklist each morning.

First, he’d get dressed into his uniform, each night it was dutifully folded and kept on the chair tucked under his desk at his bedside. Although he’d be lying if he said the uniform wasn’t at least a bit uncomfortable, Wilbur adored his uniform. Sure, maybe to some it was just clothing, no reason to add sentimental value to it, but to him, it meant a lot. The uniform was part of what made him ‘President Wilbur Soot’. It gave him just a little extra bit of strength and bravado, hope that maybe today won’t be so very stressful as the past ones have been. Even if deep down Wilbur knew said hope was false, it remained a comfort to him nonetheless. 

After ensuring each part of his uniform was perfect; boots laced up and double-knotted, both collars pressed flat and each patch and badge looking right. Then, Wilbur would brush his teeth, and spend at the very least, 15 minutes fixing his hair and beanie, so the beanie sat correctly and his hair looked presentable. Presentation is important, or that’s what Wilbur thought anyway, if you look like you know what you’re doing enough, people tend to follow you blindly. Ask the proper looking man with the fancy uniform covered in badges first, ask questions later.

While faffing about with his hair, Wilbur noticed something rather concerning. His roots were showing, well, they had been for a while, but only now had Wilbur truly taken a moment to assess how bad it was getting. Under his beanie, it was doubtful anyone would notice… but still. Just another thing to have a stupid amount of anxiety over. Yes, the bright pink hair that grows from his head, if noticed, would certainly spark some questions, but he could deal with that. Could he? They really needed doing, but they’d have to go on the back burner for now, along with all of the personal little issues that had been piling up for a while.

It wasn’t like Wilbur hated his natural hair colour, it was a very pretty pink, in his opinion, just like the rest of his family, all things considered, he did have a little bit of pride for it. Not as much pride as Techno did, no. He liked it enough to keep it as it was naturally, and not ‘wreck it with bleach and dye’ as he’d once said. Wilbur wasn’t particularly sure why he dyed it, to be honest. He’d started young, as a little kid hair dye seems like the coolest thing in the world, and after Phil revealed his was dyed, little Wilbur begged and begged to get his done. So, for his tenth birthday, Phil took him out to the nearest town for a ‘surprise’. And even if Tommy hadn’t been able to keep his blabbermouth shut, and blurted out that Phil was taking them to a hairdresser’s before the half-way point, effectively spoiling the surprise, it was still a very special, somewhat magical memory. Ever since then, he’d kept it up. When he was younger his roots showing wasn’t as big of a deal, it didn’t spark panic inside him that would linger at the back of his mind until he fixed it. He wondered when that changed…

Wilbur looked up at the mirror and combed a hand through his hair, he smiled at the thought of Techno, when he was way younger, asking him why he wanted to change it. Were Tommy’s roots starting to show? Surely he would’ve noticed that, right? His little brother bleached his because he thought Dad’s was cool, and wanted to copy, and had been basically frying it by doing it himself ever since. Now that he thought about it, Wilbur doubted Tommy would let his hair get anything like his was right now, since his took a lot more effort to maintain, he had more supplies to dye it. Hmmm, he’d have to ask about it later, he supposed.

He grabbed his glasses, circular and silver-rimmed things with thick frames like his twin brother’s, off the sink and slid them onto his face. He had wasted enough time thinking about his appearance, for now, if he didn’t wake Fundy soon, the little fox would sleep in all day.

**Author's Note:**

> I miss the revolution days.


End file.
